Cyanide and Chess Games
by thesherlockian221b
Summary: Sherlock is called to a case where the victim dies while playing a chess game, the race is on to solve one of his most perplexing cases, as there is no evidence of how the poison entered the body! Please read and review, not good at summaries so please give it a go. Rated T just in case Thank you! :):):):)
1. The game begins

Geoff stooped to enter the café and found Scott waiting for him, the chess game already set up. The elegant setting of the pieces becoming to be tested by his strategy and tactics, the game of skill that had drawn him to joining the chess club had tested him in every plain of thinking, yet the secret, the secret to winning had eluded him for so long. Now, here to play against him was Pete, a friend and opponent, whom he frequently played against in his chess society. He settled at the table, and greeted his friend, before making the starting move.

About half an hour into the game, he found himself winning, an anomaly that was not at all frequent in its occurrence, he moved his knight to take his queen, before having his own bishop taken by Pete. He moved his queen to check Pete and realized with a jolt that he had to opportunity of checkmate, if John overlooked it of course…

"Geoff, would you mind going to get us some coffee" mumbled Pete, his voice was going with his winter cold and he passed over a crumpled five pound note with a firm, steady hand. Geoff took it and walked over to the counter, waiting for service. He got two large double espressos, bringing them swiftly back to the table, for fear of burning his battered hands. Pete moved his bishop to take one of Geoff's pawns, and satisfied smile spread across Geoff's tired face. In one swift motion, the swept his queen into check mate, picking up his coffee cup, he mumbled a string of words, from the could be picked out "farewell" and "see you next week at chess group", he swallowed the dregs of his coffee, before packing his coat and standing, Pete stood too, reaching over to shake his hand, Geoff gasped, his frail hands turning into claws, scratching at the air, before collapsing, his body sent into spasm and his ribs heaving, in only seconds the gasping stopped and the spasms turned into twitches, they turned into a ghostly stillness, echoed throughout the café.

Sherlock was bored. His mind was placid, too placid, it had had its rest and now it was hyperactive, responding to even the smallest of stimuli. His fingers twitched and his feet tapped, he knew his was irritating John but he couldn't help it; he was so sick and tired of the endless dullness of London. True, he had had a case this morning, but that was all of 5hours and 36 minutes ago and now his intellect was primed for yet another. He paced around the flat, attempting to purposefully walk nowhere. John sighed and folded his paper wearily, turning to address the detective, currently pouting and sitting cross-legged on the sofa, zealously examining a microscope slide that he had found under a cushion, he grinned and poked the detective with his disused crutch, causing Sherlock to jump.

"Sherlock, cheer up, you only had a case this morning, surely you can't be this bored, this quickly" John beseeched, passing him a microscope and yawning.

"Nonsense John, boredom attacks me when I am vulnerable; the only time it can reach me is when I have nothing to use my mind for" Sherlock lamented, flopping on the sofa and fiddling with his treasured violin, plucking a few random strings before giving a loud groan of annoyance, this boredom was inescapable, his violin needed tuning and he had to get that done professionally, he had deleted that knowledge a long time ago. The frustration was getting so bad that he was just reaching for his gun when his phone beeped with a text alert.

"Murder, Chess player, 54, killed in café

Come to St Bart's ASAP

Lestrade"

"John! It's Lestrade; we have a case" John gave an absent minded smile as the Detective rushed to get his coat before shouting "Sherlock!"

"What?" he replied, somewhat impatiently.

"Get dressed" John said, without even looking up, Sherlock groaned and ran upstairs, shoving on his suit, before hurriedly buttoning his coat and hastily knotting his scarf with finger, now shaking from anticipation. Then he dragged the baffled blogger out the door and into the first cab they could hail.


	2. A Strong Start to The Investigation

Sherlock stooped, looking at the body with a scrutinizing stare, his eyes flicking over the corpse, observing everything possible about it.  
_Cyanide poisoning-skin has a pinkish tint to it and smell of bitter almonds, scars on lower back and abdomen, quite old, early 50s, unmarried, not engaged- absence of ring, keen chess player, tournament card in right pocket along with chess club membership card, card is old and worn, so has been used lots and date started is 1998, so has been keen player for more than 7 years, considering date is now 2005._

Sherlock glanced up, his mind whirring, he turned to Lestrade,

"How did he die?" He queried, looking first at Lestrade, then to Molly

"He was killed by cyanide poisoning, we found some in his coffee and he shows all the symptoms" replied Molly, eager to answer his questions.

"Check the mouth, there will be no traces of cyanide found in his mouth or on his lips" He murmured distractedly, turning away to put on his coat.

"How..?"

"Sherlock…What?"

Lestrade and John spoke together, their questioning voices colliding and brows furrowing.

"If the eye witness accounts are anything to go by, then he was alive for at least 10-15 minutes after drinking the coffee, putting on his coat, finishing the game, faffing about whist getting ready to leave, if you drink cyanide it can kill you in seconds and judging by how much was in the dregs of the coffee, I would say that he would have drunk a substantial amount, don't you? So, obviously the poison must have entered the body in a different way, taking time to spread through his blood stream, so from this we can deduce two things, it was quite a small dosage, and it was definitely not administered orally." Sherlock rattled off, looking at the others for any sign of comprehension. Molly nodded, an impressed smile spreading across her dainty face, lestrade just grinned, ever thankful to have Sherlock's fantastic mind on the case, and John stood there, as usual, astounded yet again.

Sherlock turned and strode out of the lab, signalling John to follow and telling Molly's retreating figure to text him with the additional information as to the state of the corpse.

"Sherlock, where are we going?" Questioned John, as Sherlock hailed a cab and directed it half way across the city, to an obscure citizen centre.

"We need to talk to the woman who runs the chess club, I got her name and address of the chess club from one of the files Lestrade had open on the desk in the lab, and" he paused to check his watch "it should be opening in about five minutes"

"So, Miss Hutton, can you describe Geoff for us" John asked, as Sherlock wandered round the club, watching people play, looking at trophies and photos on the walls.

"Well…" started a crying Miss Hutton "He was… he was a good chess player, not the best, but he was improving, though Scott was one of the best, he shouldn't have been playing someone so below his standard, and I can't quite work out how he lost, he was unbeaten champion 4 times running" she said, between sniffs.

"As far as you know, did he have any enemies in this club?" John asked, gently coaxing the answers from the grieving woman.

"No, at least, not that I saw, some he didn't talk to, but only through not really seeing them much, nothing bad" She sniffed

"Ok, thank you for your time, we'll be in touch" John said, giving her a tissue from the packet he kept in his pocket, gave her a consoling pat on the shoulder and turned to get Sherlock so they could leave, the detective followed him, leaning over and moving I piece on a board to help a struggling youngster have a chance at good game.

In the cab back to 221b, Sherlock's mind was buzzing with incessant questions, why was the man playing someone so far above his league? Why did you better man lose? How did the poison enter the body? Why was there poison in the coffee, if he didn't ingest it that way?

Sherlock had to answer these in order to solve the investigation, and he already had an idea of the answer of one of them.


End file.
